


Sunny Days

by wildparsnips



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Established Relationship, Everyone's happy AU, Family, Fluff, Gen, M/M, doggies, real world AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:44:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4644486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildparsnips/pseuds/wildparsnips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Good things come in small packages ... sometimes unexpectedly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunny Days

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a while. as the tags suggest, this is basically a feel-good, boy-these-characters-deserve-so-much-better-than-the-canon-gives-them AU.
> 
> if you see any errors, lemme know. I don't have an editor, ha hah. hah.
> 
> enjoy!

_Dh dh dhh._

_ROH!_

…

_Dh dh DH DHH._

_ROH ROHF ROHF ROH!_

…

_DH DH DH DH DH DH DH DH—_

_ROH RHOF RHOF RFOHF ROHF ROHF—_

 

Dave groans. He feels the lazy arm draped over his abdomen stirring.

“Hal,” he murmurs. “S’m’one’s banging at the door.”

Before he can open his eyes to really assess the situation, Hal slides his hand sluggishly up to Dave’s face. He feels Hal rub it clumsily as a sign of acknowledgement, or as if to wordlessly say, _Oh don’t worry, I got this,_ but only really manages to smear Dave’s drool all over his cheek and mouth before rising to the challenge.

Dave is still grouchy for being woken, resting in bed with his eyes still closed, when he hears Hal’s shuffling and the dogs’ incessant barking cease. There follows a silence which seems to last for hours, and then an unfamiliar voice is speaking. It’s a pleasant sound, and Dave finds he’s almost asleep again when something suddenly collapses atop of him.

He wheezes and is instantly awake, finding Hal sprawled across his belly. “Hmhmmff,” his partner declairs.

“Hal.”

Muffled sounds. Then an eloquent, “… S’babby. Just … go.”

Dave huffs, gently rolling the drowsy man over and clambering out of his sheets. He glances down at Hal once before turning to leave, not shocked to find that he has immediately relapsed back into a groggy coma, and probably wasn’t awake for any of this in the first place.

Dave wanders about their tiny home in the dark, though locating the front door was no great issue: their visitor’s car is parked out front, their headlights shining through the opening. A lithe silhouette blots out some of the view, pacing somewhat anxiously at the threshold. The dogs stand guard patiently.

Dave stops. He looks at the wall clock.

 

_2:14, AM._

… _Who_ the hell … ?

 

Bracing himself, Dave turns on the porch light to get a better view of what’s going on. He shields his eyes for a moment, then, once ready, lowers his defense to find a young man, looking haggard and clutching some type of bundle to his chest.

“Ahm …” he says in a quiet voice. “You are … You’re David, right?”

Dave squints. “Who’s asking?”

The young man squirms uncomfortably. He looks well groomed, wearing nice but not overly expensive clothes; Dave isn’t too sure who this could be, considering he had seen most of their neighbors before, and none of them looked like this. 

“I’m, ehm … My name’s Jack. Friends call me Raide—ah, jeez. Never mind. Look—“ His words tumble out and he sounds almost winded. “I’m a social service worker, and I … ah, oh—“ He is fumbling to pull out some sort of piece of identification, which Dave barely has time to register before it is stuffed back into his jacket. “Sorry. Anyway, without divulging sensitive information, I was told to … to bring you this.”

Jack looks nervous as he extends the bundle to Dave. Apprehensive, Dave takes it and peeks down to realize that it isn’t a gift-wrapped lump or some awful loaf of bread: it's a baby.

 _... S’babby?_  he thinks to himself.

He blinks, not quite sure if _he’s_ not the one still asleep.

“… by who?” is all he can manage in his confused state. This all seems far too sketchy; why so late at night? Why wouldn’t he have been told about this sooner? Is this kid lying? Why would _anyone_ think that _Dave_ —grouchy, blunt, emotionally confused Dave—would be a good choice for taking care of a baby? Unless … Maybe this isn’t wholly legal. The last thing he wants to do, after finally settling down, is to have to move again because he accidentally gets caught up in a baby smuggling act.

“I’m sorry?”

“Who told you to take this here?”

Jack looks torn. He bites his lip, then says, very slowly, “A woman. She … said she worked with you, and said you were the only person she’d trust with something like … this.” He pauses for a second, then states, “She’s ill, very ill. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I was working with her to, y'know … and she just …” A deep breath. “She very urgently contacted me and told me to find you.” One final pause, this one somewhat less awkward. “I’ve been looking for hours. You’re kind of elusive, you know?”

Dave is still so lost. He looks away from Jack to the slumbering babe in his arms. The thing is out cold, a thumb shoved into its little mouth and soft, thin strands of platinum hair neatly sticking out of its wrap. He feels … odd.

“Kid, I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think you have the right guy.” Dave tries to return the bundle, but Jack recoils, waving.

“I don’t think you understand, Dave—”

“Don’t get chummy with me.”

Jack sighs. He holds up his hand in a _one moment, please_ gesture and hurries to his car, while Dave’s dogs start patrolling excitedly around the door. The engine drones on and Dave almost considers shutting the door on the kid, leaving the baby on the porch and calling it a night, but Jack returns with a manila folder.

“Okay, _David_. Here.” He hands Dave the folder, who eyes it with more suspicion than he did the baby. “These are the forms that legalize this exchange. I took care of as much as I could, but you still need to sign these and take them in.” He crosses his arms looking equal parts exhausted and frustrated. “If you don’t want her, just take her to the agency and I’m sure they’ll find a foster home for her. If you change your mind, and you _do_ want her …” — throwing a hopeful glance at the folder — “All you need is in there.”

The choice seems so obvious to Dave, but then Jack states, “The agency is closed now, obviously. Take her or the papers tomorrow, after you’ve had some time to think.”

With that Jack extends his hand cordially, and Dave, not having a free hand to shake it with, simply stares at the man until he feels compelled enough to leave. His movements are relaxed, but he is grumbling all the way to his car.

Dave watches the man drive away. He realizes suddenly that it is remarkably warm out.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Dave awakens feeling grimy and spent.

He fell asleep on the living room couch with the baby in order to not disturb Hal, and to also figure out what exactly had happened. After cajoling the poor thing through several sobbing fits, and not being able to solve any piece of this riddle, both of them were eventually able to drift off, if only briefly.

He is on his back, gazing at the ceiling’s crumbling paint job, and for a moment, feels as though last night’s surreal experience was just a bizarre dream. He hears a few doors down Hal going through his morning routine, and he almost lets himself fall back asleep to the sound of running water and chattering birds.

One of his dogs is lounging on top of his chest, feeling strangely small. His other dog is eagerly licking at his hand, ready to get _their_ morning routine in motion with a brisk walk. For some reason, the pup has two tongues, because one is slobbering over his cheek and the other his hand and—

Dave jolts up, careful to catch the bundle that nearly tumbles off of him. He looks down and realizes again that, no, this is not a dream, he spent all night suffering to prove it. The baby’s hands are starting to fidget, and distressed noises are beginning to surface from her. She was a girl right? That’s what Jack said? It doesn’t matter in the end, because Dave doesn’t think babies can comprehend being misgendered, or _anything,_ actually, and he isn’t planning on keeping her anyway. He’s mostly waiting until Hal’s awake and capable of processing information before he hauls her off to … ah, where was he supposed to take her again?

As if on cue, Hal comes strolling down the hallway and stands in the very small foyer separating the living room and the kitchen. The shampoo he’s used is so strong Dave can smell it from the couch. It isn’t unpleasant, though; it’s quite endearing.

Hal’s sudden drop of expression, however, is not, and Dave can feel some sort of strange emotion bubbling in him as Hal staggers into the living room and just … stares.

“Wh … Wha …” he stutters, baffled. “… Dave? Do you have something to tell me?” Hal chuckles a little, but there is no mirth behind it. Just confusion.

The dogs are bounding up around Hal and Dave and the baby and the couch, thrilled their people are finally up. Dave struggles to find a way to explain this to Hal so that it’d make sense, but … it doesn’t even make sense to _him_. He rises, standing close to Hal and speaking low.

“It’s, uh … it’s a babby.”

Hal cocks an eyebrow. “A … babby.”

“Yeah.”

“A _babby?”_

“That’s what you called it last night.”

“What _I_ called it … ?” Hal trails off, sudden deep thought taking him over until he practically glows with revelation and an audible  _oh!_ “The … the guy. He brought us a baby?”

Dave shrugs, feeling a little overwhelmed by the dogs and how the baby has suddenly begun crying. “Why?” is what he hears from his partner as he attempts to calm the enraged infant, but he is hopelessly unprepared for this responsibility, and in impatience just hands the bundle to Hal, who squawks before he is able to get a decent hold of her.

“Doesn’t matter,” Dave mumbles, leaving Hal and heading to the kitchen. He is searching for his phone as he speaks: “We’re taking her to foster care.” There is no response from Hal, and after several minutes of fumbling around he finds the phone hidden under a gaudy hat. He makes an irritated growl at it, then walks back to living room.

The dogs are seated by Hal's feet, wagging their tails and eyeing the bundle curiously. He has his back to Dave, and he is so very still, and suddenly Dave has a terrible feeling in his gut.

He takes a couple steps forward and rests his hand on Hal’s back. Rubbing it, he leans forward with a cautionary, “Hal …” before noticing how absolutely _enamored_ Hal is. It stops him from speaking, and he just waits.

It takes only a few seconds to realize what Hal is thinking, and Dave moves so he is now directly facing the man, grabbing his arm with a gentle squeeze. “Hal. We _cannot_ keep her.”

Hal’s mouth is open and it quivers as if he is trying to speak. Eventually he is able to whisper, “Sh… she’s so small.”

Dave makes a face. A _not good_ face.

Hal moves the hand closest to her head and gently strokes her cheek. Dave didn’t even realize in his fervor to get her out of here that she had stopped crying, and was now looking up at Hal as wondrously as he was at her.

“ _Hal._ ” Dave’s tone is much harsher now. He does not want to budge on this, but Hal doesn’t seem to be listening. Or hearing.

A few more seconds pass and Hal looks up to Dave. Not wearing his glasses just yet, Dave has a clear view into his eyes. He looks gentle, yearning; his mouth trembles again and he takes a swift glance at the baby before looking again at Dave.

“Why …” he begins quietly. “Why are we taking her to foster care?”

Dave looks puzzled. Is Hal being serious? “Are … you being serious?”

“How come that guy brought her to us, Dave? Don’t you think this is a sign?”

“Yes. A sign to take it to back.”

_“Dave!”_

Dave sighs. He rakes a hand through his hair and shifts his weight. The dogs are padding beneath them, whining. “Hal, we don’t know anything about this kid. She could’ve been stolen and now we’re the suckers stuck with the blame.”

“Did the man who brought her tell you anything? _Anything?_ ”

Dave pauses. “Sort of … but I don’t trust him.” He feels himself getting a little tense at how insistent Hal is.

Hal is looking down at the baby again. His finger is being grabbed by her chunky hands, and she’s making what seem to be happy gurgling noises.

Dave watches them, listening to the dogs skirt around and the baby’s gibberish. He watches the way Hal looks at her like she really is some sort of magical sign, some … weird little thing that Dave just can’t quite relate to, or even wish to be a part of. He wants nothing more than to leave the baby at some agency who’s _prepared_ to deal with this sort of thing, then return home and go jogging with the dogs, or read, or work out, or watch Hal work on his computer and listen to him rattle on about coffee script or some shit.

Hal is whispering so softly, Dave can hardly register what is being said. “We have to at least _try_ taking care of her,” he says. The baby is gnawing on his finger, all gums and no teeth. “We have to try.”

And Dave is shocked to hear himself say, “Fine.”

 

* * *

 

Maybe he was just tired of arguing. Or maybe the next weirdest thing to do, after suddenly being handed a baby, was to keep it. Or maybe he really believed they’d be good parents, deep down. Signing the paperwork and thinking of himself, _and_ Hal, officially, as _parents_ … It was a strange feeling. He’d been having that feeling a lot, it seems.

The three are in the kitchen. Hal is playing a silly game with the baby and Dave is trying to figure out what supplies they need and a general plan of action.

Hal gently holds the baby’s hands in his own, moving them around and making all sorts of sickeningly adorable noises. Dave is contemplative.

“You’re being too analytical,” Hal says to him, knowing exactly what he’s thinking. Dave simply shrugs.

He decides, after making a list of things to purchase and asking Hal if he could double-check it, that he should call his mom.

Not that he is particularly close to any of his immediate family, but he always felt more comfortable with his mother than his father, despite being nearly identical to him. He figures she’d have advice as to how to deal with … this.

Hal is making weird noises again as Dave pulls up her number and hits _send_.

It rings a couple times, and then an energetic _Hello?_ vibrates in his ear.

“Hi, Mama.”

There is an excited shout that even Hal can hear, and he looks over smirking as Dave struggles through not only catching up with her ( who dropped being a pilot and has since started teaching motorcycle lessons ) and his dad ( whose butterfly collection has grown, apparently ), but also explaining their situation.

_“So a man came to the door and just … gave you a baby?”_

“Uh, yep.”

_“You don’t find that suspicious?”_

“… Yes, I do, but, uh, Hal insisted we keep her …”

_“Oh, I see. Such a sweet man … Naïve, but sweet.”_

“Uh huh.” He looks at Hal, who gives him a smile and a thumbs-up.

His mother proceeds to explain good habits, tricks, and necessities to maintain while raising a child. She starts slow, but information just start spilling out and Dave is frantically scrambling in the kitchen for the notepad he used earlier, remembers it’s by Hal, snatches it, and quickly starts jotting down her advice.

“Mama— … I, okay, I— Mama, slow down—” Dave feels silly taking notes on something that should probably come naturally to him, but nothing about this situation feels even _remotely_ natural. He tries his best to get everything documented, but half of the things she’s talking about make no sense to him. “A what? _Baby Björn?_ Mama, wha— … Okay, but— Ma—”

Dave eventually just stops talking, and once his mother feels she has adequately prepared her son for the journey ahead, she affectionately says her farewells, expressing an eager desire to come down to visit some time. Dave reciprocates, then quickly lowers his phone and hits _end_ , sighing.

“I love how you call your mom ‘Mama’.”

“Whatever.” Dave is visibly flustered.

 

* * *

 

After making necessary purchases and fighting their way through their first diaper change, both Dave and Hal are lounging peacefully in the living room. Sunlight filters through their window’s blinds, creating a patterned patch of warmth on the ground ( which the dogs are struggling to share ) and highlighting the dust particles up above.

The baby had just been fed formula, and is now resting on top of Dave’s chest. He is sprawled out on the couch, and Hal sits on the ground right next to him. Hal’s hand is gently combing through Dave’s hair, and Dave can feel himself drifting off for a nap.

“She needs a name,” Hal says quietly.

Dave opens his eyes. He turns to look at Hal, and then the baby.

He’s never been good with names. His dogs are named _Fox_ and _Wolf_ , for Christ’s sake. Of course he knew naming the baby was an inevitability—they couldn’t turn in their paper work until they picked one—but he was hoping that they could just call her “baby” for the rest of her life.

Hal’s free hand is cradling her small head now, rubbing her cheek with feather-soft touches, and he looks at her with such wonder it makes Dave’s chest tighten. After a moment of looking around the room, Hal smiles back at Dave. “How about Sunny?”

Dave blinks. “Sunny …”

“Yeah. She doesn’t cry that much for a baby, so I think she has a very sunny disposition … And she’s warm, like the sun.”

Dave doesn’t have the heart to say, _I think all kids are warm; in fact, I think all living beings are warm;_ instead he smiles back tiredly and gives Hal’s nose a flick. “Sure.”

 

* * *

 

It takes them a while to get a system going.

Being a freelance programmer, the nature of Hal’s work means that he stays at home for a lot of it, and unfortunately that means he isn’t always able to deal with Sunny if she’s having problems. His work requires concentration and tact, not baby puke.

Dave also stays at home, mostly because he doesn’t have a job. Being ex-military does have its perks, not the least of which is the state of his bank account.

That being said, Dave is the one who has taken up the burden—the _pleasure_ —of handling Sunny for most of the day. Hal takes over in the mornings, evenings, weekends, and sometimes week-day afternoons when Dave just can’t take it. His days spent in-between jobs are almost entirely dedicated to spending time with Sunny, and Dave finds he enjoys these days the most; not because he has been relieved of duty, but because he can revel in how genuinely happy Hal is.

They are in the kitchen one evening when Dave is preparing some sort of culinary delight, along with a new batch of delectable vegetable paste for Sunny. ( _“It’s not too bad,”_ he’d told Hal after a taste test, who reeled back in horror. )

Hal is holding her hands and helping her toddle around in her onesie. The dogs whimper from the foyer, upset they aren’t allowed to linger in the kitchen, and Sunny shrieks in delight at the sight of them.

Frowning, Hal turns to Dave’s direction. “Aw, why can’t we let them come in?” he asks.

“Because they beg.”

“But we don’t have to give them anything …”

“But I _know_ you _will._ ” Dave can’t see it, but he can feel Hal pouting.

He carries on with his tasks while listening to Sunny and Hal romp around behind him. He fishes around in their cabinets for bowls, and he suddenly hears Hal laughing quite heartily behind him.

Curious, Dave turns around to see Sunny clad in Hal’s glasses, woefully too big and magnifying her eyes to be equally as large.

He isn’t really sure why it’s funny, but something about the sight of Hal almost doubled over from laughter, and Sunny’s vacant expression, and the whole damn thing of them raising a kid together in a little house fills Dave with … with something, and suddenly he’s laughing too.

At some point he gathers himself enough to stride across the room to his partner, whose face he clutches with both hands and happily kisses. The dogs sneak into the kitchen and sniff for crumbs while Hal can’t stop laughing, and Sunny is squished into a Sunny-sandwich between him and Dave, and Dave ruffles both of their hair feeling oddly proud.

He doesn’t _really_ think Sunny is a burden. On the contrary, she's far from it.

 

* * *

 

In the years that pass, nothing much changes in the household. Dave cooks, Hal cleans, Sunny makes a mess. They’re astonishingly functional, and Dave is grateful for it.

 

Sunny’s first word is uttered a couple months after her arrival, followed by a quickly growing vocabulary. Dave and Hal learn a long ways down the road that she has a stutter, an odd choice in fashion, and a _wickedly_ smart brain. She’d sit with Hal and watch him code, absorbing the language and trying to figure the whole thing out herself. Hal was thrilled, and Dave was, too. Still is.

 

Dave’s parents finally come out to visit after a year of delays, his father donning a façade of aloofness to spare himself from emotional outbursts, and his mother so overcome that her reaction to seeing Sunny for the first time reminds Dave of Hal’s. She stands by Hal as he holds Sunny—at least two years old now, and starting to grow shy around strangers—and she just stares at her in awe.

Bringing one hand to her mouth, she touches her son's arm with the other, and he looks down at her. “She’s lovely,” she says. “You’re doing a wonderful job, Dave.”

Dave nods in acknowledgement, but doesn’t say anything else. He feels his chest getting tight again.

 

As she gets older and braver, Sunny begins to teeter out into their backyard and play with the dogs on her own, almost always ruining her clothes and hurting herself somehow. Nothing serious, of course: scrapes, bruises, mud and dirt patches. It doesn’t bother Dave; in fact, he thinks it’s good for her. Toughens her up. Hal has differing opinions, but he lets them slide, so long as Sunny is happy.

On one particularly fateful day, she goes out to play before dinner. Dave is in the kitchen so he cannot hear, but Hal, busily making their beds in the back, suddenly hears her screaming. He’s outside in a flash, though not before summoning Dave with a frantic cry of his own.

Dropping everything, Dave hurries to see what the commotion is: he is met with Sunny, sprawled on the ground, sobbing, having jabbed herself on a sharp metal bit of the fence surrounding their lot. There is a gash in her leg and he hears Hal begin to breathe heavily next to him.

In his best attempt, Dave tries to calm both parties down and gauge the situation. Sunny’s cut, while nasty looking, isn’t too deep, and shouldn’t have any lasting damage. He relays this to Hal, who urgently is running back and forth between the doorway and Dave, trying to figure out what to do.

Dave carries Sunny inside, Hal equipped with a towel, some bandages, and some disinfectant, and they get to work.

Sunny is upset, of course, but she recovers ( mentally ) very quickly, remembering that Dave made her some of her favorite bread rolls for dinner. They eat in a somewhat uncomfortable silence, Sunny babbling in her broken tongue and occasionally rubbing her wound going _ow_.

At bedtime, Hal insists rather anxiously that he’d prefer she not go out alone anymore. Dave agrees.

 

* * *

 

When Sunny is four, she starts picking up new hobbies. Safer hobbies.

She starts drawing. Dave’s knowledge of art is slim, but he’ll color in Pokemon coloring pages, or fill out Disney sticker books with her regardless. She starts trying to make her own drawings, crude and obtuse, but so lovingly rendered, one can’t help but like them.

 

Dave is sitting in the living room with the fireplace going one night, the dogs sleeping peacefully at his feet. He watches the flames crack behind the grate, feeling wholly content. He hears Hal and Sunny in the kitchen doing something, he’s not quite sure …

He is about to shut his eyes when he hears them start shuffling, and then Sunny emerges from the foyer, looking bashful.

He straightens his back a bit and tilts his head quizzically. Hal stands behind her, smiling, and gently prods her back without a word. Sunny looks a little nervous, but she hurries over and abruptly presents him a sheet of paper. Dave can see some colored lines on it, and he takes it gently into his hand.

Gazing at it, Dave notes that it seems to be a drawing of him, Hal, Sunny, and the dogs ( all carefully labeled by Hal’s handwriting, which Sunny tried to copied and rewrite above the originals ), and they are all sporting lop-sided grins and huge hands, and there are birds and flowers, and the sun _and_ the moon are out, and Dave, with the familiar sensation of his chest swelling, is suddenly at a loss for words.

He loves his family, his friends. He _loves_ Hal, just as he loves Sunny _._ But nothing has ever come close to what he is feeling right now.

Dave is suddenly kissing Sunny’s head and cheeks and nose and she is giggling under his iron grip, screeching and laughing and yelling, “N-no more!” She is pounding her little fists into his arms, but he can’t contain himself; Dave is overjoyed. He lifts her into the air and swings her and she seems almost as elated as he is, squealing blissfully. Dave stops and just holds her, smiling, _beaming_ , and he turns and sees Hal becoming nearly as emotional as he feels. Maybe even more so.

He looks back down at Sunny. She laughs and slaps his chest. “A-again!”

Dave _loves life._

**Author's Note:**

> \- BB's butterfly collection refers to a ( not very serious ) headcanon that he's deeply interested in / drawn to them, based on how many times he's seen with 'em in the games. it felt wrong giving him a gun collection in a light-hearted AU like this, ho ho ho.


End file.
